


let's Get the Shit Kicked Out of Us By Love

by Vacilando



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Love Actually Setting, F/M, M/M, Multi, SPOT THE LOVE ACTUALLY QUOTES, eggsy is whipped, harry hart is an idiot, harry is even more whipped, i fucking love this movie it saved my soul, i have finally decided that we need a Love Actually fic, its that time of the year, listen i had this sitting in my dropbox for years, roxy is a goddess and merlin worships her, the love actually we all been craving for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 10:49:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13098519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vacilando/pseuds/Vacilando
Summary: “You told me that I had a choice on what to do with this one,” Merlin says in a clear voice, the tone giving no chance for Harry to interject. Not, of course, that Harry is even in any frame of mind to interject. Eggsy’s genial smile is now widens to an exited grin and Harry suspects that the boy is trying to not bounce on his feet. “So here he is then. Eggsy Unwin, codename Excalibur, also known as your aide and otherwise known as your glorified butler with added perks.”aka- The Kingsman / Love Actually AU featuring lobsters at nativity play, dramatic love confessions to Mariah Carey's All I Want For Christmas, and everyone wonders who they have to shag to get biscuits around here.





	let's Get the Shit Kicked Out of Us By Love

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2015. Posted in 2017. You'll forgive me then for not having the Statesman in here. 
> 
> ...
> 
> Maybe in the next one. (in 2020 most likely HA)

Harry sits back in one of the hard, uncomfortable metal seat with his legs neatly crossed and his hands in his lap, cradling a paper cup of piping hot coffee. He tilts his head and feels his lips quirk in a smile as he watches two couples embracing. Behind the couple, he sees a woman running from the Arrival Gates and drops to her knees, her children engulfed in her arms after they escaped from their grinning and laughing father.

Heathrow Arrival Hall is in a state of chaos with people talking and laughing, their trolleys abandoned as they hug their significant others. There are tears of joy and laughter, chatter of how their flight went, occasional exclamation from the young ones. It is mayhem, but Harry finds himself at peace as he watches all of these individuals from all walks of life being reunited with their loved ones. There is something to be said about witnessing love at its raw most form and if Harry were a man of talent with words, he would have written prose about it.

He takes a sip of his coffee to hide his smile and to surreptitiously switch on his glasses transmission.

“You’re going soft, Hart.” Merlin’s gruff voice pipes though the glasses.

“Nonsense,” Harry murmurs delicately, his lips still hidden behind the rims of the paper cup. “I am observing the crowd for potential danger.”

“Right,” Merlin snorts in disbelieve. “Because you’re not at all just taking it all in with heart in your eyes and dramatic commentaries running through your head. Tell me, right now, that you’re not lamenting your lack of skills in literature because you so desperately want to write a flowery prose about that mother hugging her little spawn.”

Harry feels that he is most entitled not to grace Merlin’s comment with a response and thus, continues to sip his coffee. The smile that he hides stretches further as yet another set of couple laughs through their tears; one half of them with a backpack on her back, travel clothes rumpled and the other half looking perfectly lovely in her sundress.

“Lovely pair,” Merlin comments and Harry nods, still keeping quiet as he lets his eyes roam further along the massive crowd. “Your cab is parked out at the front and your driver is getting impatient. Time to get to work, Arthur.”

It is by years of training that Harry manages not to sigh and restrained himself from asking Merlin to not call him by that title. He nods as he stands and threw away the now empty cup into the nearest recycling bin before navigating his way through the throngs of people. Sure enough, the Kingsman black cab sits parked by the curb and Harry slides in the back seat with an apology to his driver.

He gives the airport one last look before telling his driver to make way for the shop.

 

\--

 

“You’re late for your own promotion.”

Harry’s smile is unabashed as he climbs up the stairs, his eyes trained on Merlin at the very top of it. The quartermaster of the agency merely rolled his eyes at Harry, already walking towards the dining room. Harry follows Merlin’s lead down the hallway, “Nonsense, old friend. Arthur is never late.” They stop in front of the closed rich brown doors, Harry adjusting his cuffs and Merlin sighing up a storm at him. “Everyone else is simply too early.”

Merlin mutters a quiet _shut up_ under his breath and opens the door to a room filled with Knights, all sitting primly in their seats. Harry does a quick inventory check and nods to each of his Knights as he makes his way down the long length of the table towards his seat at the head of it. He takes note of their newest addition to the table; the frighteningly capable young Roxanne Morton who now holds his old codename.

He hears a quiet snigger from one side of the table once he settles in his seat. James –or rather- Lancelot as he is in this room, looks back at him with straight face, but Harry knows the man enough to know that it was him. One raised eyebrow later and there is a quiet thump from under the table. Harry smirks at the twitch of James’ eyes, knowing it to be the work of Percival.

“Knights, I will not be wasting my breath on a pointlessly long speech.” He begins, his hands folded primly on the table. Merlin stands behind him, his presence a strength to Harry to continue. “You have all suspected it, and my sitting here confirms your suspicions to be true. Chester,” Harry hesitates for a split second before continuing, “Had to be forcibly removed, shall we say. The reasons, disregard the fact that you have all been briefed prior, shall be discussed extensively once the matter of cleaning up Chester’s loose ends and damage control is done and over with.”

Harry meets each and every pair of eyes at the table, conveying the message that he intends to be transparent with them where Chester kept things close to his breast. “Now that’s out of the way –for the time being- I would like to welcome the newest member of our table.”

 

\--

 

Harry cricks his neck and cracks his knuckles with a quiet sigh, wishing that he could loosen his tie even just a little bit. The large wingback armchair swallows him when he allows his spine to relax, feeling the relief almost immediately when the rigidness ebbs away slowly. The library is quiet, safe for the muted sound of fingers tapping away on a tablet, across the room where Merlin is sitting on a Cleopatra seat.

“You handled that well enough, Harry. Stop fretting.” Merlin mutters, the sound of it carries through the silence.

“I am most certainly not fretting, Merlin. Stop criticising.” Harry sniffs delicately as he reaches for the tea tray served on the table in front of him. “Are we quite done here?”

“I’ll stop criticising when you stop fretting.” Merlin snaps back easily, standing and walking towards Harry with his tab under his arm. “There is one more thing to be settled, actually. I wanted to talk to you about it earlier, but you just had to run off to bloody Heathrow of all places.” The bald man grumbles.

“I did not ‘run off’ as you so kindly put it, old friend.” Harry takes a sip of his tea, observing the way Merlin seem to look a little uncomfortable. “Let us have it then; what did you do and do I have a say in it?”

“You don’t.” Merlin quips back, his hand going to his glasses before he taps the side of it. “You may enter.” Harry’s eyebrows rose at the command and he is about to question it when the door to the library clicks open, letting in a figure decked in their customary bespoke suit to enter the room.

Eggsy stands before him in the suit that is not unlike one of his favourite ones, the kind that he use to wear when he still held the title Galahad. The young man smiles genially at him; his cheeks smooth and rosy whilst his moss green eyes twinkle fondly at Harry from behind Kingsman-issued glasses. Gone are the horrible fitting snapbacks, where in its place is a neatly parted hair and styled in the fashion of a Kingsman. The boy even _stands_ like a Kingsman, Harry notes. The way his legs are slightly apart and one hand in his pocket with his hips cocked almost arrogantly to the side.

But it is the emotion on that face that gets Harry’s heart racing. There is pride in that face; pride for one’s own self and there is a sense of self awareness, the firm knowledge of one’s worth. When Harry offered the chance to be a Kingsman and was subsequently –but understandably- rejected when all things considered what with the mother and sister that needed constant protection, Harry had resigned himself to never seeing this remarkable boy ever again. The least that Harry could do in memory of Lee Unwin, is to direct Merlin’s attention to Eggsy. He had told Merlin to observe Eggsy and to make his own judgement as to where to place Eggsy in their vast agency.

And now here they are.

Merlin clears his throat and stands by Eggsy’s side, one arm raised slightly at Eggsy in a gesture of presentation. “You told me that I had a choice on what to do with this one,” Merlin says in a clear voice, the tone giving no chance for Harry to interject. Not, of course, that Harry is even in any frame of mind to interject. Eggsy’s genial smile is now widens to an exited grin and Harry suspects that the boy is trying to not bounce on his feet. “So here he is then. Eggsy Unwin, codename Excalibur, also known as your aide and otherwise known as your glorified butler with added perks.”

Harry’s eyebrows positively disappear into his hair as he sits up straight in his wingback chair. “I _beg_ your pardon?” Harry demands, “That codename does not exist; it never has and as far as I am concerned, it was never authorised to exist.”

“Well it does now.” Eggsy cuts in, both his hands are now shoved in his pockets as he looks at Harry with an amused smile. With a slight jolt of apprehension down his spine, Harry notices the same smile mirrored on Merlin’s face. “Trust me; you’ll be glad for it.”

“And what does this _newly unauthorised_ position entails, pray tell.” Harry looks at Merlin incredulously, not liking the smug smile on his old friend’s face at all. He looks back at Eggsy, the boy that he bailed out of jail a scant year and a half ago, with the same level of incredulity. Harry takes pride in the control that he has over his facial features, namely his ability to always maintain the perfect poker face that is rivalled only by Tom –Percival-, but this?

This is beyond his control.

“Like Merlin said it, bruv.” Eggsy shrugs, a tell tale sign that his old ways are still with him even with the suit on. “I’m your aide and glorified butler.” The boy grins, the latter half of that sentence said in a playful manner. “I’m goin’ to make sure you don’t burn yourself out, cleanin’ up the mess that old fucker Chester made of this agency.”

“You’ll need the help, Harry. You know you do.” Merlin adds from where he stands besides Eggsy. “Missions to delegate, meetings with the other branches, pacifying the investors, over-seeing the business side of the agency, fixing the relationship with the goddamn _crown_ , all of it; that’s on you.”

“And it doesn’t have to be just you, is what we’re saying.” Eggys continues from where Merlin stops. His moss green eyes are sincere as he looks at Harry and the force of it on top of the horrid list that Merlin recites make for a compelling argument that Harry refuses to acknowledge unless absolutely necessary. “Merlin’s been training me im’self, you see. I’m good, I’m _really_ good and I’ll make this whole Arthur nonsense a bit less painful than it would have been.”

Harry scowls when the realization dawns on him that these two are tag-teaming him into submission if the twin looks of satisfaction are anything to go by. That aside, the confession that Merlin has been training the young man himself is a satisfactory explanation on how those two could be so in sync in cornering Harry. Apparently, acknowledging the compelling argument is an absolute necessity after all.

And those two –damn those two to hell and back- knows it.

 

\--

 

“Well this is a surprise.”

Eggsy barely lifts his eyes away from the screen of his laptop, his fingers flying over the keys. The only sign that he even heard Roxy is the grunt that he gives as one of his hands wanders over the various folders on his desk. The room that Merlin assigned to him is one that is attached to Harry’s office through a door to his left, giving him easy access to their Arthur should the man require his help.

“I thought he would at least resist for a week or two before unloading all of these on you.” Eggsy spies Roxy’s hand sneaking over the file that has open and promptly slap her wrist before continuing to type.

“He didn’t, Merlin did.” Eggsy grumbles, cursing inwardly at the disaster of a report that Lancelot submitted on his mission in Latvia. “What the fuck is wrong with this bloke, fucks’ sake,” He mutters and Roxy snorts in derision. “Reckon we’d start off without him. He’ll come around soon enough, after he gets his head out of his arse, that is. Do you have any idea how behind we are in _everything,_ Rox? Fuck Chester, fuck Valentine, fuck my life.”

“You love it, don’t even try to pretend you don’t.” Roxy scoffs and picks up Lancelot –James’- folder, reading through it and wrinkling her nose the further down she gets. “You worked for this for the better part of the year, not to mention that Merlin himself taught you everything.” She says with a little bit of envy in her voice. “Honestly though, I’ve seen your scores. You could’ve made a bloody brilliant agent.”

“What, yous saying that I coulda’ beaten you for the Galahad job?” Eggsy grins and winks at her, dodging to the left when Roxy throws a stapler at him. “Nah, Rox. Not interested in all that,” Eggsy pause, his head cocked to the side in thought. “Well, no, alright. Yeah I’d love to be out there doing all them missions. But I couldn’t leave me mum and Daisy flower alone with Dean for the trainings; I mean, you lot went off grid for about –what?- ten months? Nah, Rox.” Eggsy shakes his head, his fingers resume their typing as he pulls up a window to check on the other agents that have recently checked in with their locations. He sends a quick message to Merlin to inform him of their agents’ status, humming when he receives a reply almost immediately. “Merlin’s training gives me time to go back home and check on me girls, make sure that they’re taken care off and all. Fuck load better than abandoning them with nuffin’, to be honest. And besides,” He grins and teasingly kicks Roxy’s Oxfords under his table. “This job means I outrank you now yeah? So that’s a _huge_ plus.”

“Don’t be a prick,” Roxy shoots back, kicking back harder than necessary. “I get to kick arse and you don’t, so I think I win this one.”

Eggsy chortles and falls back in the rhythm of organizing Harry’s schedule on top of checking the agents’ status and sending updates to Merlin. His movements are fluid as he fills out the necessary paperwork and going through reports in order to sort through the ones that need Harry’s attention and those that he can deal with himself. He supposes that he ought to feel jealous of Roxy’s freedom and how her position allows her to be active in the field instead of staying dormant in the HQ mansion, fielding administrative work for their Arthur.

But really, it isn’t like he is completely chained to the estate. He is above all else, responsible for Harry’s safety and if that safety includes taking out would-be assassins behind Harry’s back and at his own discretion, then well no one needs to know but him and Merlin. When all things are considered, being a secret bodyguard to one Harry Hart isn’t such a bad trade where it counts.

A movement from Roxy catches his eyes and Eggsy stops to observe his friend, taking in the way she surreptitiously checks her watch and glancing back at the door to his office. Eggsy reigns in the unholy grin that threatens to carve its way across face and sits back into his chair, lacing his fingers over his chest. “So tell me, Roxy girl. How long have you been working with the agency? Counting your recruitment training?”

Roxy narrows her eyes at him, but Eggsy is unperturbed. “Almost –what- twenty months, fifteen days, and oh, nine hours and forty five minutes?” The agent raises a challenging eyebrow at Eggsy, daring him to say anything. Eggsy, in response, nods cordially and leans forward with a manic glint in his eyes.

“And tell me again how long have you been completely stupid for our quartermaster Merlin whose real name is categorized as if-I-tell-you-I’d-have-to-kill-you?”

Eggsy watches with fascination as Roxy’s face morphs from challenging to disbelieving to mortification and finally settles on furious resignation. Her whiskey eyes are fire as she glares at Eggsy, hissing, “Twenty months, fifteen days, nine hours and fifteen minutes.” The agent folds her arms stubbornly over her chest and leans away from the smug way Eggsy looks at her. “Do you think he knows?” She mutters and picks at her suit jacket.

“Fuck yeah he does.” Eggsy says and snaps his fingers at Roxy to get her attention. “And so does everyone else, for that matter. They respect you enough not to say anything, Tom’s threats notwithstanding, of course. Well,” Eggsy amends after a moment, “That and the pool that James’ running. Not that Tom knows about it, of course. He’s not exactly in his top form now is he?”

Roxy nods slowly in agreement as she momentarily ignores the publicity that her love life is getting amongst her fellow knights. “It’ll be two years, next month.” She says, her voice pitched low in respect at the thought of her mentor and uncle’s deceased wife. “He’s doing alright, of course. His missions still perfect-“, She looks to Eggsy who nods in affirmative, “Right, but he’s not- exactly- talking much? But it’s the same every year, Since Aunt Stella passed. He’ll be alright after the anniversary.”

“I’ll remind Harry about it then, have him redistribute the missions for next month, yeah? We’ll try to keep Tom to home turf missions so he can come home to his son.” Eggsy frowns as he turns to his laptop to pull up the missions that they have lined up. “Right then, so this thing with Merlin-“

“No, Eggsy.” Roxy snaps, standing up and holding a finger to Eggsy’s grinning face. “Don’t you dare do anything, do you understand? I will _end_ you Unwin.” The agent pivots on the balls of her feet and walks up to Eggsy’s door, hand on the handle as she gives him one last glare of warning. “And shame on you, Eggsy; which one do you want to be? Pot, or kettle?”

Eggsy balks when Roxy raises one triumphed eyebrow at him before slipping out of his office.

Well.

Fuck.

 

\--

 

Harry removes his glasses and lays it neatly on the centre of his desk mat, signalling the end of the mission’s brief and nodding at Percival to do the same. The dining room is empty and warm thanks to the heater and Harry finds himself preferring this compared to his office back at the estate, never mind the fact that Eggsy seem to despair of this choice. The younger man has been dropping hints to Harry about the security of this location in comparative to the security of the mansion. Harry frowns when his heart jumps at the thought of his young aide and steels himself against the oncoming thoughts that he would rather not entertain during working hours.

Instead, he chooses to focus on his agent who sits primly on his left hand side, politely waiting to be dismissed. The circles under the man’s eyes however, stop Harry from doing just that. He contemplates his words, carefully weighing them before speaking; “How’s Newton doing? He should be starting school this year, shouldn’t he?”

Percival- or Tom, as he is now, cocks his head and lifts the corner of his lips just slightly, a fond look crossing his face at the thought of his son. “He already started, actually. Harry,” the man frowns but with a playful twinkle in his eyes at him, “It’s December already. Goodness sake, man. Haven’t Excalibur mentioned that to you lately?”

Harry scoffs and starts to fuss over the paperwork in front of him, careful not to mess up the way that Eggsy have them organised. “Contrary to popular believe Tom, Excalibur does not run every aspect of my life.” He huffs as he screws his pen open and levels a stare at Tom who looks serenely back at him. “I do not need the young man to tell me what month it is, thank you very much. Now do not change the subject, if you please.”

He watches Tom’s little smile falls with a creeping sense of regret. The man on his left seems to deflate as he sinks just a little in his seat, barely noticeably in the stiff way that he sets his back. “School is distracting him enough and he isn’t as mopey as he used to be this time last year. There is, of course, the school Christmas concert that he’s excited about as well, so thank the Lord for little mercies.” Tom stops, his face changing into one of painful confusion that Harry detects only thanks to decades of being friends. “I don’t quite know how to talk to him about this, to be quite honest Harry. It was always Stella who does all this you see; asking him about his day. And me being away on missions most of the time, it just- doesn’t help the situation at all.”

Harry nods in understanding and makes a mental note to thank Eggsy about the reshuffling of the missions, knowing that Chester did not give Tom the courtesy of doing the same thing last year. He swiftly pulls out a pink flagged file from under the ‘Away Missions’ pile and slides it over to Tom who makes a surprised noise upon opening to the first page.

“Excalibur took the liberty to reshuffle certain missions, as you can see. I would have been displeased and reprimanded the lad, but I cannot deny the logic in his argument. Not,” Harry amends and letting the fondness take over his chest, flowing like warm water after a day out in the snow. “that any complaints will register to him. I think that our Excalibur fancies himself the Arthur rather than I.”

“Nonsense,” Tom’s eyes twinkle a little brighter when he looks up from the file, the smile on his face a little bigger as well. He looks genuinely pleased and fond as he looks at Harry. “You two are one and the same. The others, myself included, have just taken to refer to the two of you as a unit now. It’s easier.” The light green of his iris glitters in the winter sunlight that filters through the dining room’s curtained window, the colour of it cooling rather than warming when Harry subconsciously compares them to moss green. “Thank Excalibur for me, will you? This means a lot, it really does.”

The door bursts open and Eggsy enters with a silver tray in both his hands and more folders tucked under his arm. He is wearing a light grey herringbone patterned suit today, double breasted with a forest green tie expertly knotted in a Windsor. The colour of it brings out his own green eyes, making them glow even from behind the thick black frames of his Kingsman-issued glasses. The young man smiles at both Harry and Tom in greeting, setting the tray of tea and sandwiches in front of them.

“Percival, good to see you back from Sudan.” He nods at Tom, his eyes widen in pleasure when he takes notices of the file in the agent’s hands. A flush bloom slightly in the boy’s cheeks and Harry forces himself to look away, pretending to peruse to content of the paperwork that he had abandoned in favour of speaking to Tom. “Arthur, these are the stocks report that you asked for and the status updates from the Armoury. They’re not looking too good, just bear that in mind. Treasury is complaining about the Merlin department again and the R&D department is complaining just as much about Treasury, but I’ve scheduled a meeting for that already and the mansion’s Housekeeping department is just about to throw a royal fit over that room the recruits accidentally blew up-“

Harry lets Eggsy’s voice smooth over him, enjoying the articulacy that the young man adopts when in polite company. He knows very well that Tom must be judging his reaction from the way the man sits still, no doubt that his eyes are carefully cataloguing Harry’s reaction. He hopes that all his years as Kingsman would serve him well now in keeping his facial expression as passive and bland as he can, but with a touch of polite attention. Harry steadfastly ignores the way that his heart skips a beat and his stomach’s attempt at a jig when Eggsy leans a little too close, allowing Harry the luxury of inhaling the smell of the young man’s cologne. He refuses, absolutely refuses, to take notice of the way the winter sunlight dances off Eggsy’s well combed hair, highlighting the light gold of it.

Tom clears his throat and inclines his head in deference to Harry, the amusement very poorly hidden to Harry’s trained eyes. “I must take my leave now, I’m afraid. Arthur, thank you for your time,” he nods to Harry who smiles tightly back at the man, already making plans to talk to James about stopping being a bloody coward. The irony, of course, is not lost on him. “Excalibur; always a pleasure to see you.”

Harry and Eggsy watch the ginger man leave the room and closing the door behind him, leaving the both of them in contemplative silence. Harry flicks his eyes at Eggsy who ignores him in favour of pouring the tea and arranging the plate of sandwiches around the organised chaos of paperwork and files, taking care to put distance between the beverage and any electronic gadget on the table. Their movements are fluid; where Harry takes the tea cup that Eggsy offers with a murmured thank you and Eggsy picking up one of the file on the table as he sits down in Galahad’s seat by Harry’s right hand side. The young man breezes through the file, hums, and hands over the fresh files he brought in to Harry, wordlessly indicating the space where Harry’s signature is required.

They work in silent tandem, savouring these precious hours between them where there is no agents to fill in with missions brief, no meetings to sit through and no political mess to navigate through. The files are boring as they are comforting, the routine checks on departments giving the two of them respite. Harry notices when Eggsy picks out little sandwiches and pushes them towards Harry, and Harry in turn indulges the young man by obediently munching on the snack.

“Any plans for Christmas?” Harry asks as he rejects a request from Relations. “You’ve put in a request for leave. Not that I am inclined to reject it, of course, just that- it’s earlier than you would normally asks for.” He curses inwardly at the way his words stumble. Here he is, a man pushing fifty and a decorated agent of one of the oldest spy agency in the world, ranking in the top five of their best agents from all over the globe and yet he fumbles to speak to his own assistant.

Granted, he doubts that any of his predecessors ever had to encounter a problem such as Eggsy Unwin. Eggsy Unwin who smiles genially at Harry every morning as he comes in to work with tea ready on his desk and passive aggressively bullies Harry into having bits of fruits with his breakfast as well as keeping the sugar pot well away from Harry. He very much doubts that his predecessors ever had to deal with the way that Eggsy would roll his eyes and flatly calls him out whenever he is being unreasonable and would sometime allow his pet pug JB to roam Harry’s office as he organizes what Harry feels like his entire life.

“Daisy flower got her first school concert this year, see.” Harry snaps from pathetic musing and refocuses his eyes on Eggsy who has the sweetest smile known to man on his lips. He resolutely tells the horrid butterflies in his stomach to settle down before he makes a display out of them in his bathroom. “So I thought I’d do the good big ol’ brother thing and take a few days off to watch her practice, yea? Sides’ mum needs a bit o’ help with Daisy’s costume on top of her own work. Who would ave’ thought there’d be lobsters at the birth of Jesus Christ?”

Harry very nearly chokes on his sandwich. “I beg your pardon?” He feels his eyes widen in disbelieve whilst Eggsy laughs delightedly at him, his pen hovering dangerously close to the papers. “Did you just imply that your sister is playing a lobster in a nativity play?”

“First lobster.” Eggsy corrects him with a straight face before giving in to his mirth, his head shaking gently. The sunlight that pours over Eggsy does bad things to Harry’s mental health and he wonders if perhaps it would be too out-worldly to request that their meetings be held in a windowless room where Eggsy’s ridiculous hair would not be able to glow like a goddamn halo over his head. “Never mind that now. Here, look, we’ve got a bit o’ a problem down in our southeast Asia branch yeah? There’s talk about how that chopper crash was an assassination or somefink and they’re requesting our assistance for intel, and I reckon we should reply this within the week since about half of their field operatives going off to Mecca for their—Umrah, was it? Anyway--”

Harry nods and hums in all the right places, his mind flawlessly following the course of Eggsy’s explanation as the young man points out the key issues and dropping in his suggestions. All the while, he knows deep down that there is a problem here where Eggsy is concerned and the growing feeling of fondness and ridiculous stuttering does not abate the worry that nags at the back of his mind. He thinks of James and Tom and wonders if perhaps, in this situation, he is being a bit of a hypocritical arse.

\--

Eggsy snarls in disgust as he crawls on his stomach, feeling the grime of the streets clinging to the front of his suit. He can almost _see_ the judgmental disappointment on Andrew’s face when he inevitably drags his arse to the shop in disgrace and a ruined suit. He mutters an impressive string of curses as he reaches dumpster and dodges to hide behind it just in time to avoid the graze of a bullet.

“So how goes the match making then, bruv?” Eggsy asks, barely out of breath as he reloads both his hand gun and peeks over the edge of the dumpster, taking in the number of idiots that he needs to shoot through the head. He makes out about three in his view and makes a mental note to keep a lookout in case more pops out of nowhere, knowing his luck. “Any progress?”

“None whatsoever.” Merlin grunts through the transmissions. “There’s two more above you Eggsy, one on each side of the alley” Eggsy curses and darts from his hiding spot, taking two of the thugs down easy with a bullet each and tackles the third, snapping his neck for the heck of it. “James for all his bravado and foolishness seem to just wither like a fucking flower when Tom so much as grin, I swear to god. And Tom on the other hand, just keeps,” Merlin makes a complicated noise and Eggsy huffs a laugh, imagining the man making frustrated gestures with his hands.

”Dodging things. And leaving the room when James comes in and of-fucking-course James would –oh, bit to the left Excalibur, just take the turn, yes there, shoot there, very good- James would then be all _wounded_ and terrorize my minions.” Merlin’s voice steadily rises in frustration whilst Eggsy runs up the fire escape, giving chase to the last of the target. His movements come easy as he jumps over barriers, using whatever he can find as purchase to propel himself forward. The guns in his hands are a familiar weight and he feels the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he lands neatly on the roof, his Oxfords taking the impact easily.

“Well I spose’ we could always give em’ another shot at the Christmas party yeah?” Eggsy makes a face at the thought of it, his mind making a quick checklist of the things that he still has to do before that particular demon can be slain. “Shit, who the fuck came up with that anyways? Christmas parties? In a spy agency? The fuck were those tossers been takin’ when they came up with it.”

“It’s tradition, you plebeian brat.” Merlin reprimands with an underlying amusement in his tone. Eggsy snorts in a manner Harry would have scolded him for and scouts the roof for his target who seem to have taken to play hide and seek. The sludge left behind by that morning’s snow leaves disgusting smudges on Eggsy’s Oxfords whilst the mess that the front of his suit have become starts to seep through the materials. He grimaces as he stalks the roof, feeling the way that his shirt clings to his chest.

“Still dumb, Merlin.” The thing about being Excalibur and having the Merlin of the agency as your mentor, is that the line between them is one so secured that not even Arthur have access to it unless absolutely necessary. Eggsy joked once to Merlin that perhaps Merlin is the true power behind the agency, to which the man responded with an unimpressed look and a raised eyebrow as though he had expected Eggsy to have figured it out months prior. “And how’s the whole Roxy thing goin’ for you?”

Eggsy spots the target behind an airconditioning unit a little ways away from him and wastes no time in slinking silently towards the poor bloke. His movements are economic, silent and predatory as he holstered one gun and holds the other in front of him, taking aim. His breathing is controlled, the condensation barely there despite the cold night. Snow begins to fall from the light polluted sky, landing on his hair and his suit, melting when it touches the barrel of his gun. He sees the head poking from behind the unit and grins.

He squeezes the trigger and watch in satisfaction as the head blows up in a splatter of red and grey matter.

“Very nice,” Merlin’s voice comes back through the glasses and Eggsy shrugs noncommittally, ignoring the fact that Merlin cannot see it. “And mind your own business you little shit. Why the hell do I even tolerate this from you, I’ll never know.”

Eggsy laughs as he jogs down the fire escape after sending a quick text to his support team, requesting for a cleanup crew. He feels pleased with the outcome of this little hunt, the adrenaline doing a world of wonder to his mood. “I’m your favourite, that’s why. When yous gonna just admit it bruv?”

“Let it be known that the only reason you’re still alive, you brat, is because I’ve neither the time nor patience to train another one of you. Besides,” Merlin’s voice pitches low and Eggsy stops halfway down the steps to focus. “Fuck all she’s too good for me.”

Eggsy inclines his head, knowing that Merlin can see the movement from his glasses. “True, that. But she probably thinks the same about you, mate. So something’s gotta give innit.” He says and let the words ring through the silence that is disturbed only by the wailing of a distant police siren. Eggsy looks down and waves at the cleanup crew that begins to spill out from a dark SUV in the alley below. “Look, bruv, she likes you and you goddamn well worships the ground she walks on, so what’s the problem? You’ve been sittin’ there complaining about Tom and James like you aint one of those idiots not doing anything. Sides’,” Eggsy nods at a passing crew in greeting and continues his trek down the fire escape. “I can’t stand another moment of you all pining after each other like puppies.”

Merlin snort of disgust fills Eggsy’s ear and he grimaces, already knowing what’s coming from the moment those words left his mouth. And sure enough; “Which one are you today then? Pot or kettle?”

Eggsy is starting to really _really_ hate that phrase.

 

-

 

There are few things that Harry allows himself to complain about when it comes to his position as Arthur, and the agency’s Christmas party just happens to be on the top three of that very short list. He chews on this bit of thoughts as he smiles blandly at one of the investors of Kingsman, trapped as he is in the corner of the mansion’s ballroom. The thing about Kingsman that no one ever acknowledges unless they are in the administrative side of things, is that their agency is first and foremost a business and that their trade is services to the Crown. Where there is business, there is the unhappy inevitable intrusion of businessmen from influential families who have been pouring in their resources into the agency since its conception after the Great War.

Since these newer generations of investors are not privy to the true nature of the agency, Harry – as Arthur- have the unpleasant job of pretending to be the Director of a make believe company. Or really, that is the rough idea of how the whole farce works, but he does wonder if perhaps he could talk Eggsy into taking on this side of the Arthur persona so that Harry may be free to focus on the actual meat of the matter.

Smiles are exchanged and flutes of champagne are refilled as the hours pass by. Harry’s only respite from the mindless chatter are the moments where Eggsy breezes by the small court that Harry is holding at the time, resplendent in a perfectly cut tuxedo and passing him little bits of hors de’orves with a cheeky wink. Harry gives a cordial hum of agreement and expertly orchestrates the conversation around him, making sure to draw in important individuals into the discussions and satisfying them with his attention.

All the while, his eyes track Eggsy’s movement from across the decently crowded ballroom. Every chance that he gets, his eyes follow Eggsy as the young man dances around the room with Roxy in his arms, his waltz decent enough to gain approval from the other guests. Harry makes a note to congratulate Merlin on the thorough training that the man undoubtedly has put his aide through before placing him in Harry’s employment. He feels the beginning of a spark of jealously in his chest at the thought of someone becoming intimate with the feel of Eggsy’s hands in theirs and way Eggsy’s waist must have felt under their own hand. The spark barely have time to become anything more before he viciously stamps it down as he fakes a polite laughter to further entertain his semicircle of courtier.

He is left alone soon enough as the night passes and the party nearing its end. Harry steps out on the balcony and into the cold night air, ignoring the way his hands immediately freeze at the sudden drop of temperature. His champagne flute sits forgotten on the thick marble of the balcony ledge as he casts his eyes to take in the snow covered lawn of Kingsman mansion, pausing briefly to mourn the temporary loss of their hedge-maze below. He sighs and leans forward, ignoring the way the snow seep into the sleeves of his tuxedo. His mind is once again, plagued with the thought of Eggsy and desperately wondering how in seven hells did he miss the way the young man managed to slip seamlessly into his life in such a short span of time.

Harry remembers with clarity the day that he was called to make good on his promise of favour for a fallen comrade’s family and the feeling of genuine surprise that grew as he reads Eggsy’s portfolio. There is mourning for the potential that seem to have been wasted on petty crimes and multiple ASBOs and it is accompanied by the bitter taste of guilt on his tongue at the realization that he contributed to this mess of a life by his failure at doing his job. The guilt of course, is what probably prompted him to reprimand the young man in that pub, a mistake that he still cringes at whenever the memory surfaces.

He smiles deprecatingly, his chin tucked into the collar of his crisp white shirt. He should have known that there is trouble brewing the moment he failed to control his mind to mouth connection and the subsequent way he –to quote Merlin- _showed off like a primp peacock reacting to a mating call_ when he gave an impromptu lesson in manners to the thugs that threatened Eggsy. Harry supposes that his sudden burst of inspiration to nudge Eggsy to pique Merlin’s interest in order to keep the boy at least within the Kingsman after his rejected offer makes a lot more sense now.

Merlin may call him all the cowardly names under the sun for refusing to do anything about this attraction, but Harry knows what is at stake, he knows what it means to be attached to one’s aide in their line of work. Never mind of course, the fact that Merlin pretty much created the position without so much as a by-your-leave, but that is neither here nor there.

What done is done.

A loud burst of laughter carries it way even through the closed glass door of the balcony and Harry twist around just in time to catch sight of Eggsy twirling Roxy in a vigorous circle, the young lady laughing just as loudly as she follows him step for step. Harry smiles indulgently at the incredulous look on guests who are not familiar with their youngest members whilst the rest of his staff and Knights seem to be relieved that the formality is done and over with for the night.

Eggsy clumsily dips Roxy- their new Galahad- and twirls her away, right into a gobsmacked Merlin just as the song changes. There is cajoling and fumbling hands before those two begin to sweep the floor elegantly with firm determination on both their faces. Harry’s chest rumble with quiet laughter as he watches his old friend struggle to maintain his composure whilst the young lady in his arm is the picture of serenity.

He freezes, however, when Eggsy spots him from where he stands between Tom and James. The young man seem to have made up his mind when he nudges James’ side with his elbow, as though signalling something, before he makes his way through the crowd and right where Harry still stand with snow gathering steadily in his hair and on his shoulders. He feels around for his champagne and uncharacteristically down the rest of it just as Eggsy pushes the glass doors open and steps into the night with him.

“Bit nippy, innit?” Eggsy’s easy grin assaults Harry and he is helpless but to return the smile, albeit a little muted. “Merlin’s probably gonna give me so much shit for this tomorrow, but whatever. It’s Christmas and I aint putting up with the pining more’n I have to or I’ll go barking mad.” He huffs and makes a show of shuddering to show his disgust. Harry resists the temptation dust off the snow on the young man’s shoulder, the white of it standing stark against the black of the fabric. Eggsy, to Harry’s dismay, is perfectly silhouetted in the warm light that pours from the ballroom through the glass doors and the amber of it seem to make Eggsy glow on the dim balcony.

Harry might just hate himself a little bit.

The song changes from the simple waltz and transitions to a quiet little melody, the crooning of the singer’s voice signals the official end to the night’s formalities. Harry lets his eyes drift towards Eggsy’s disgruntled face and feels a disarming amount of affection for the young man. He swallows, knowing that this is a situation that is best left alone. If he takes the plunge and gives into this- whatever it is- that have been plaguing him since the moment he met this remarkable young man almost two years ago on the steps of the police station, then he knows that he will never come out of this unscathed.

“Bors just sent in his formal request to resign, by the way.” Eggsy’s voice is small and Harry inclines his head automatically, despite not really registering a word that comes out of the younger man’s mouth. “From what I gathered, his eldest just gone and got er’self married and that sort of-“ the young man shrugs, his face making a complicated series of emotions and the affection that is steadily growing just morphs into something so colossal that Harry would have closed his eyes in resignation if he could.

“I suppose it just put things in perspective for the bloke, ya get me? Probably made im’ realise that this Kingsman business aint’ a long term sort of thing.” Eggsy snorts, but not unkindly as he softens it with a quiet laugh. “Bit late for it, but better now than never, I reckon. But fuck, recruitment gonna be a bitch.”

Couples begin to fill the dance floor and sway lazily to the music whilst Harry debates his next course of action. Eggsy is oblivious to the internal argument that Harry is fielding in his mind as he leans back against the edge of the balcony to –presumably- watch the way that Roxy and Merlin have settled into an easy rhythm. Harry flicks his eyes from Eggsy in hopes of clearing his mind, but it is for naught when he sees, instead, James and Tom standing by one of the paintings with their heads bowed and looking to the entire world to be deep in conversation. There is a rare, genuine smile on Tom’s face and James’ usually animated face is –for once- settled in an expression of content.

“Would you like to dance, Eggsy?”

If the request startled him, Eggsy did not show it as he considers Harry’s offered hand before taking it slowly, pulling himself up closer to Harry. Chest to chest, Harry feels every breath that Eggsy takes as he begins to sway them slowly, side to side in a poor imitation of a dance. There is no finesse in the way that Harry simply holds onto Eggsy’s hand and grips the younger man’s hips in the other, very much content and pleased.

Harry closes his eyes with a sigh and steps ever closer to Eggsy, the side of his head rests lightly on the crown of Eggsy’s hair. It’s a little tacky with hair product, but Harry barely minds it as he presses a barely there kiss to the top of that blond head, noting the way his partner’s breath hitch at the contact. Harry moves his hand from Eggsy’s hip to slowly trace a path along the back of his spine, savouring the little shivers that make the lithe body tremble. He relishes the way the little hairs at the nape of Eggsy’s neck tickle his palm as he finally rests his hand on the back of Eggsy’s head to press it to his shoulder.

They continue to sway in that spot, their bodies seemingly knowing what to do. Harry feels the way that Eggsy’s chest rises and falls with ever beat of his own heart and he takes pleasure in the way that the younger man’s other hand is now wound around Harry’s chest. Their joined hands fall slowly, little by little, until they are trapped between their bodies.

It is natural, the way that Harry turns his nose just so, nuzzling the side of Eggsy’s face to get his attention. He is thankful that neither of them have their glasses on, both gadgets tucked safely in their pockets. With this, Harry is able to look –properly look- into those green eyes and taking account of all the little flecks of hazel and the way that it is a little darker around the ring of his iris. The glow of amber from the ballroom highlights the fluttery lashes that frame Eggsy’s eyes and it glitters from the little bits of snow that clings when Eggsy blinks.

Eggsy’s green eyes peek at him from under those lashes almost bashfully as he rests his head more comfortably on Harry’s shoulder. He watches in fascination as Eggsy brings their hand closer to his lips and kisses where their fingers tangle, the warmth of those lips sending a pleasant thrum throughout Harry’s body and it curls in the bottom of his tummy like a lighted hearth fire. The song comes to an end and he hears the sound of people chattering lightly, muffled by the glass doors that stand between them and reality. None of them mattered however, as Harry presses a kiss to Eggsy’s forehead with the knowledge that he is completely, utterly and beyond any doubt, destroyed.  

 

\--

 

“That twat is avoiding me.” Eggsy growls as he slams a stack of files onto Merlin’s desk. The bright harsh light of the Merlin department does nothing to abate the growing headache that Eggsy is nursing and it just serves to piss him off even further. He pulls a chair with the toe of his Oxford, violently rolling the furniture around on its wheels before straddling the thing with more force than necessary. He rests his chin on his folded arm atop the head of the chair and glares at the multiple monitors that his mentor is currently fielding.

The mentor in question barely spares him a glance as he mutters instructions into the microphone in front of him, his glasses pushed up to rest on the top of his head. Eggsy huffs in annoyance but allows Merlin to work in relative peace while he goes over the Christmas party for what it feels like the thousandth time that day. Nothing makes sense to him anymore. One moment Harry had been holding him like he is the only thing in the world that exists to him, kissing his forehead and cradling his face with alarming gentility. Eggsy could have sworn that the Harry was going to kiss him that night instead of dropping his hand and abruptly left the entire affair without so much of a goodbye.

And now a week later, Eggsy couldn’t get Harry alone long enough to get a word edgewise. There is always an agent with them in the dining room, always a personnel asking for one thing or other in the office, always a room full of people when Eggsy tries to corner Harry in the mansion. A blissfully happy Roxy keeps shooting him sympathetic glances and it has arrived to the point where even James had stopped to clap him on the shoulder with an encouraging nod.

“Of course he’s avoiding you; he’s an emotionally stunted British gentleman with a warped sense of duty.” Merlin grunts and shoves a tablet at Eggsy. “Make yourself useful if you’re going to be bothering me.” Eggsy accepts the gadget with a token protest before getting right down to work, pressing his glasses to connect to Kay’s and letting the field agent know that he’ll be taking over from Merlin for a little while. “The thing is Eggsy, that idiot can be the most foolishly brave man I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting when it comes to Kingsman missions. Unfortunately, when it comes to matters of actual human interactions that involved emotions, the man just degenerates back into a primary school boy.”

Eggsy scowls as he skims through the blueprint of the building that Kay is currently hiding in. He forms a quick escape route with three different backups and sends it over to Kay’s glasses before raising his eyes to catch Merlin’s. The quartermaster merely cocks an eyebrow and tilts his head slightly as though telling Eggsy that there is nothing to be done. Eggsy, understandably, refuses to accept it.

“What’s holding im’ back, really? I mean it Merlin, what’s holding im’ back from just seeing where we can take this thing between us? It aint’ like he don’ know how I feel, yeah? Pretty obvious that I like im’ just as much.” Eggsy rants even as he carefully scans the security feeds that he pulled on the tablet to make sure that Kay would not run into any surprises. The agent in question grunts as he pulls open a door that Eggsy keyed in to open and Eggsy relaxes a little but tenses once again when he notices the pregnant silence from Merlin.

The man looks to be almost uncomfortable as he fiddles with the keyboards in front of him, pulling and closing windows in an obvious show to not look at Eggsy. The department continues to bustle around them with people coming and going, each one of them wearing hideous Christmas jumpers as they carry gadgets and take-out boxes around. An ominous feeling begins to curl around Eggsy’s heart and he swallows hard.

“He doesn’t _just_ like you, Excalibur.”

Eggsy jumps a little in his seat the frustrated tone that bleeds through his glasses. He looks at his tablet to watch Kay prowl the corridor, picks a lock at the stairway door and slips through without any issues. He feels his face heat up with embarrassment when he realises that he did not turn off the communications channel before going on his tirade. “Harry Hart, that fool, is in love with you.” Eggsy chokes on his own spit as Merlin coughs awkwardly into his fist. “We –the Knights, that is- are fond of you Excalibur and we agreed that Harry is better with you than without. But there is a limit to how much of this nonsensical pining that we can take. Do something about it, will you? It’s Christmas for God’s sake.”

The screen of the tablet shows a grainy image of the agent walking out the back door of the building, smoothly holstering his firearm and pulling the edge of his suit jacket. Eggsy’s throat bobbles before he gives the agent the all clear and instructs him to wait by the curb for his car. He cuts the connection after flagging the mission as a success and looks up. “I suppose I should—talk to Harry or sumfink, yeah? I mean, he’s got to know that I feel the same?” Eggsy hesitates, unsure of how much he should reveal to Merlin. “I mean, I thought I’d just be happy with im’ liking me. It doesn’t matter if it just stays like that, to be honest, but now that Kay’s said that Harry _loves-“_

“He asked for you to be redistributed.”

Eggsy balks.

Merlin turns in his chair to give Eggsy his full attention and to hand him a thin file. “The day after, he came directly to me and demanded that you be redistributed and be put on the Bors recruitment track.” Merlin pause, giving time for Eggsy to slowly digest the information, “I refused and insisted that you’re _my_ protégé and I trained you specifically to be Excalibur. The skill set that you have at your disposal isn’t something that I want to let go of, ever, and there isn’t anything in the world that can force me to take up another puppy to train.”

“And what did he say to that?” Eggsy demands, the file cold and heavy in his hands despite the thinness.

“He told me to keep you here if I’m so adamant about keeping you on as Excalibur,” Merlin shrugs with a sympathetic half smile. “He pulled rank on me, lad. I’m sorry.”

 

\--

 

Harry sits in his favourite wingback armchair in the library and lets the sound of Otis Redding wash over him as he feels the stress of the entire week seep through the leather. He has a stack of Christmas cards in his hands, each one ready to be opened and read as he sips his brandy. He wallows in the thought of being fifty and still spending Christmas alone with liquor and cards that his employees give in out of a sense of duty more than actual affection.

The fire in the hearth roars cheerfully and he sighs as he begins to open the first one, smirking at the printed words and the simple initials at the bottom of it. Merlin’s card is a bit more personal with the message of telling him to _Get your head out of your arse and get over yourself you prick, it’s Christmas._ The message ends with a hastily scribbled _xoxo_ , no doubt Roxy’s work given how those two seem to be attached at the hips whenever their Galahad is not on a mission. Harry snorts uncharitably but let the card stand on the coffee table nonetheless.

He is about to open the next one when he hears three, sharp raps at the door. Harry frowns and does a quick run through on who could still be at the mansion on Christmas night and coming up empty. He calls for the person to enter anyway and his frown deepens when Tom steps into the room with a tentative smile. The ginger man is in his favoured three-piece blue suit with a light pink tie and there is a gift wrapped box in his hands.

“Just dropping by to give you your present, Harry.” Tom’s tentative smile softens to something a little more sincere as he gently places the box on in front of Harry. Harry returns the smile and nods to the armchair opposite of him, wordlessly inviting Tom to sit. “Going through the cards? Goodness, is it just me or is this entire agency is a bit mad for Christmas? I’m quite sure my handler was singing Last Christmas under his breath.”

Harry huffs out a laugh and waves an inappropriate Christmas card at Tom, his smile teasing as he says; “Well at least James has got some sense of humour. I do believe he’s outdone himself with this one. Shame Chester couldn’t be here; the old snob probably would have died just looking at this monstrosity.”

Tom’s face flushes at an alarming rate both at the card and the mention of James’ name, his hand quick to snatch the card from Harry’s hand. It amuses Harry that this typically stoic gentleman can easily be rendered to this flushing mess of a man at the mere mention of a name. Of course, the fact that he is quick to descent back into hypocrisy with that train of thought is conveniently ignored in favour of watching Tom tucking the card back into its envelope and chucking it into Harry’s lit fireplace.

“I would apologize, but I sincerely doubt that you are inclined to keep _that_ one.” Tom clears his throat and makes to hand over the box in his lap, but stops once he gets a good look at Merlin’s card on the table. The man hesitates, his light green eyes flicking up to meet Harry’s before saying; “He’s quite right, you know.”

“About me being a prick, you mean? Tom, haven’t we been friends long enough to accept the fact that most of us –if not all of us- are pricks of the highest pedigree?” Harry quips and pulls out another card from the stack, determined to go through all of them by midnight. “Perhaps not Tristan; he’s probably the nicest one we have now that Bors is retired. Though I wouldn’t say no to him toning down that fondness of poisoning-people thing.” He turns the card in his hand a few times, frowning at the lack of name on the envelope. The flimsy white paper is carefully opened and Harry pulls out a generic looking Christmas card with the typical window looking out over a snowy village.

“My seven year old son just very casually mentioned to me the other day that he’s in love with a girl two years his senior in primary school.” Tom’s smooth voice cuts Harry’s thought short and Harry looks back at the man in mirthful surprise. “He’s been distant lately, as I’ve told you before.” Tom adds and Harry nods for him to continue, the card still delicately held between his fingers. “I was quite prepared to have him tell me that he finds my being absent all the time to be unacceptable and he very much hates me for it, on top of having brought another man home and catching me kiss that same man under the mistletoe on Christmas Eve.”

Harry raises the card to cover his growing smile and makes a fuss of crossing his legs to find a more comfortable position. Tom just gives him his signature bland look. “The point is, as pathetically cliché and horribly reputation-destroying this will sound, love is not a bad thing to have at any age at all, Harry. God, you’re never going to let me live this down,” Tom rolls his eyes to the ceiling, but Harry chooses instead to look down at the card in his hand, opening the front of it to avoid looking at his agent. “I thought Stella was a done deal for me, that I can’t open myself up for anyone. But you know as well as I do how that one was shot to hell. So just—give yourself a chance, Hart.”

But Harry barely registers what Tom is saying, his mind racing and his heart pounding as he reads the familiar scratchy handwriting in the card. The message is simple despite the mass of complex emotions that it draws from Harry. He traces the words _I love you too, you idiot; Happy Christmas Harry_ and looks back up to meet Tom’s exasperated eyes.

“I’ve been quite the fool, haven’t I?” Harry grimaces, his hand distractingly shaking the card.

Tom hums in agreement and places his gift on Harry’s table, right beside Merlin’s card. “As long as you’re aware of it, Harry, as long as you’re aware of it. Now if you would excuse me, James and I have a seven year old boy to take to his school Christmas concert. That man would give me grieve for weeks if we’re late. Apparently Papier-mâché lobster heads take forever and a day to finish.”

A faint memory comes to the front of Harry’s mind and he stands with the card in his hand, already making his way to the door. He looks over his shoulder to the mildly surprised Tom and grins.

“Yes, well, apparently there was more than one lobster present at the birth of Jesus Christ.”

 

\--

 

The backstage is in a state of chaos with children running about in their costumes, their parents chasing after them whilst the members of the faculty try to bring some sort of order to everyone. It takes a narrow escape from being trampled by a child in a whale costume for Eggsy to throw in the towel and decides to find help instead of herding his baby sister blindly through the madness. He grins down at his little Daisy flower and feels particularly proud of the way her costume turned out, this massively magnificent orange lobster head that he slaved over for days with his mother and the occasional help from Roxy whenever she dropped by.

He guides his baby sister through the narrow hallways, smiling and greeting the parents that pass him by, their easy grin probably brought by the way the suit that Eggsy chooses to wear for the play. “Come on, Daise flower we’re going to be late,” He mutters and pushes pass a particularly large man, apologizing as he struggles to find the right room where Daisy is supposed to meet her classmates. Eggsy holds back a curse and as sigh when his mobile vibrates from his breast pocket. With one hand on Daisy’s shoulder, he keeps them walking as he pulls the gadget and answers with in a clipped tone.

“Rude, Eggsy,” Roxy’s voice tuts at him from the speaker. “Where are you? We’re all settled in the audience now, by the way. Your mother is asking for you and Merlin looks like he’s about to throw up his dinner. Must be the absolutely _horrifying_ sight of infants running around, no doubt.” Eggsy hears a token protest in the background and bites back a laugh despite his surprise at the mention of Merlin being there.

“Why won’t you ever say his name, though? Oh shite, hold on,” Eggsy says as he waves to a woman standing on top of some boxes down the hall. Daisy’s exclamation catches her attention and signals Eggsy to enter the room two doors down. “-come on Daisy girl- Right, sorry Rox, just saw Daise’ teacher. I’ll be there in a bit, promise. Just need to get our girl in her dressing room, aight. What’s Merlin doing ere’ anyways? Thought he’d be halfway drunk at his mum’s in Glasgow; oops hold on a mo’, love.”

Eggsy cradles his mobile between his ears and his shoulder as he drops into a crouch in front of his bouncing seven year old sister. “Break a leg, yeah Daise flower.” Eggsy kisses the little bit of her cheek that pokes from the hole that shows her face, the roughness of the Papier-mâché digging into his skin. “Big bruv will be down there with mum, aunt Rox and Merlin, aight?” He grins and kisses her one more time before backing away from the madness, just barely avoiding getting hit by an obnoxiously red lobster claw. Eggsy traces the guilty appendage attached to a little boy in a red jumper, wearing a massive, fire-engine red lobster head with his charmingly pudgy face just barely fitting through the face-hole.

“Eggsy, fancy that!” Eggsy looks up from the rosy cheeked boy and flinches at the sight of James grinning down at him. There is mischief in those eyes and they look far too please for Eggsy’s liking. The man has his hands on the little boy’s shoulder, a gesture familiarly parental. “We had no idea your sister goes here, do we darling?” James’ grin –if it is at all possible- widens further like the fucking Cheshire cat as he looks over his shoulders.

“No, we don’t. What a happy coincidence.”

Tom’s head comes into Eggsy’s view, his face carefully blank but Eggsy can recognize that mad glint in his eyes anywhere. He feels his stomach drop and mutters a _I’ll call you back_ into his mobile before steeling himself to deal with James’ brand of insanity. The little boy –Newton, if Eggsy isn’t mistaken- fidgets under James’ hand before breaking free and running head first into the room filled with raucous children in various sea creature costumes.

“Right, uh, nice to see you blokes out of the mansion for once.” Eggsy says as he carefully steps around the two agents, ignoring the indignant noises from the little ones around him. “I’ll just- be going then, yeah? See you after the show, Happy Christmas!” He waves and turns around, wanting to get as far away from those two as humanly possible. His escape, however, is blocked by a wall of bespoke suit that Eggsy haven’t seen in nearly a week.

“Eggsy,” Harry fucking Hart looks down at Eggsy with a small smile on his lips. The man’s hand is on Eggsy arm, keeping him steady. The man hesitates and that’s enough for Eggsy to hastily step back, wrenching himself from the older man’s hold. He looks back to the agents still standing by the door to the dressing room like two overdressed bouncers as they stepped aside to let a child in an octopus costume enter with a cordial nod to the child’s bewildered parent.

“Can we –perhaps- talk? Somewhere quiet, preferably.” Eggsy resigns himself to his fate when Harry bends to whisper in his ear, the sheer force of is presence at Eggsy’s back crushing every argument that Eggsy comes up with. He glares at the twin terror by the door before pivoting around and grabbing Harry’s elbow, pulling the man along the narrow hallway. He expertly dodges teachers and students alike, his hand loosening once he’s confident that Harry will be able to follow him through the insanity of the choir dressed in ugly Rudolph jumpers.

Harry, however, seem to have other ideas as he grabs Eggsy’s hand in a tight grip and squeezing once. Eggsy swallows his nervousness and climbs the flight of stairs to their left, pushing through the first door that he sees which thankfully, turns out to be an empty corridor, with heavy curtains on either side. He shakes off Harry’s hand and walks further down the corridor, absolutely refusing to look at the man before he regains some resemblance of composure.

With a deep breath, Eggsy turns around and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well? Let’s have it then.”

Eggsy watches Harry opens and closes his mouth a few times and he finds himself begrudgingly enamoured at the lost look on the normally composed man. Overhead, he hears the beginning of Silent Night and groans. “Harry, come on bruv. You’ve got summat to say, you say it now and you say it fast cause yous making me miss my baby sister’s play.” Eggsy says, very much unapologetic at the whining tone his voice takes as the hymn continues. Harry, however, remain to be lost for words even as he walks up close to where Eggsy is standing.

“Right, you know what? I aint taking none of your shite anymore, love or no. You’ve got something figured out, you come talk to me, yeah?” Eggsy uncrosses his arms points his finger at Harry, pressing the tip of it to the older man’s tie once he gets close enough. “Until then, you’re more’n welcome to wallow in all of your stupid excuses and brood like fucking batman in your mancave of an office while I’ll be down at the Merlin department, laughing my _arse off_ as I watch you try to manage your fucking mad schedule aight?”

Eggsy glares scathingly up at Harry and roughly pushes pass the man when the hymn comes to it then end. “Oh, fucks—brilliant, missed it. Fucking missed it.” Eggsy salutes mockingly at Harry stomps down the empty corridor just as the first loud, cheery note of a Christmas number starts playing. The entire corridor vibrates with loud cheering and music as Eggsy determinedly makes his way to the exit, leaving Harry behind.

“It’s a self-preservation thing.”

Eggsy stops. He turns around slowly to look back at a resigned Harry Hart in all of his charcoal suit glory. Here they are on Christmas night, in the backstage of his sister’s primary school and Harry Hart is standing there, telling him that the entire catastrophic mess is a result of _self preservation_? Eggsy shakes his head disbelievingly as he stalks back to Harry, horribly loud Christmas song making his head pound. The heavy curtains around them trembles with the force of the crowd’s loud cheer and Eggsy is unbelievably pissed at Harry for making him wait, for making him pine like a fucking teenager, and above all, for making him miss his baby sister’s performance because lobster costumes are _a bitch_.

Fuck that. 

“You have any idea, any idea at all how much shit I went through for you?” Eggsy begins, his hand raised to stall any protests from Harry. “Aight, mate, listen. I aint sayin that I did all that I did to be Excalibur exclusively for your sake, cause that wasn’t it. I did it for me and I did it for me mum and me sister, but _you_ ,” Eggsy jabs his finger at Harry and wishes that the prick would stop looking at him like that, like he’s the most wonderful thing because he is _pissed_.

“You were always at the back of my head, yeah? Like a limpet with your teeth all sunk in all over me thoughts and you just wouldn’t leave. And I thought I could just let you go, you know? Like it’s alright, its fine, I’ll be your Excalibur and do my fucking job because I’m damn good at it, Harry Hart. I am ace at my job don’t you say shit about it.” Eggsy is gripping Harry’s tie by now, the Christmas song coming to its climax overhead. Harry, to Eggsy’s utter exasperation, just continues to look at him like he hung the fucking moon and it’s distracting him.

“But then you just had to pull that shite that you pull at that party and just threw everything out the window for me. Then what did you do, you posh git?” Eggsy shakes Harry’s tie one last time and steps back, his chest heaving and hurt. “You fucking had me redistributed, that’s what you did. Fucking threw me away.”

Eggsy glares resolutely at Harry, daring him to comment. The older man shakes his head slowly; as though waking himself up from the tirade that Eggsy put him through, his eyes a little glazed even from behind the glasses on his nose. Eggsy has half a mind to turn around and leave the man, but something roots him to the spot and he scowls at how utterly whipped he is for this idiot.

“I was afraid,” Eggsy’s eyebrows disappears into his hairline at the admission. Harry’s steps are and measured as he crowds Eggsy’s space, their bodies close but not quite touching. “I was absolutely petrified by everything that you made me feel and the possibility of what we could have. It is a stupid, foolish thing to be afraid of, but it has come to my attention as of late that I also happen to be a stupid, foolish old man when it comes to you.”

Eggsy’s breath stutters when Harry raises his hands to cup his face and tilting him up to look Harry fully in the eyes. The brown of Harry’s eyes are soft and bright as the older man lowers his face to touch their foreheads together. Their noses brush and Eggsy relents, letting his arms wrap themselves around Harry’s waist. He feels Harry’s left hand fall to cup the side of his neck as the right one moves up to push his hair back, catching slightly in his hair product. It comes down again to palm his cheek, Harry’s thumb gentle as it rubs at Eggsy’s bottom lip. He glances at up at Harry through his lashes and finds it hard to breathe at the way the man looks at him.

“You’ve quite ruined me, Eggsy. Thoroughly,” Harry kisses the corner of his mouth, “absolutely,” he kisses the other corner, “have me besotted.” Their lips meet in an inelegant clash, all teeth and tongue, emotions pouring into every breath that they share. Harry takes his time in nibbling Eggsy’s bottom lip and he groans, unwrapping his arms from around Harry to card his hands through the older man’s hair, pulling him closer. Eggsy pulls at the brown locks, tacky with product, and uses them as an anchor as he sucks at Harry’s tongue, teasing him into his mouth.

Seconds pass like minutes and minutes pass like hours before they slow down, chest heaving as they come down from their high. Eggsy swallows, his eyes still closed and he savours the way that Harry keeps pressing open mouthed kisses down his neck and stopping at the collar of his starched shirt. Eggsy lets his hands fall from Harry’s hair, running them down the older man’s spine and finally clutching at the man’s side, the fabric of his suit jacket rough under the sensitive skin of Eggsy’s palm.

The corridor vibrates again with the force of the cheering crowd beyond as the last note of the Christmas number fades out, and Eggsy feels Harry pulling away slight. He opens his eyes slowly and blinks lazily up at Harry, pleased with the way his brown hair sticks out everywhere. Eggsy nuzzles into the palm that’s still cradling his face and kicks weakly at Harry’s leg. “I’m still pissed at you for that redistribution shit.”

“I’ll have Merlin reverse that tomorrow.” Harry mutters, his words a little muffled by Eggsy’s shoulder. “I really really do apologize for everything, Eggsy.”

His head is a welcomed weight on Eggys’s shoulders and he pulls the older man closer, not ready to let go even as his mobile begins to vibrate incessantly in his breast pocket. Eggsy feels the tremor of a chuckle run through Harry’s body and he sighs, reluctantly pulling away from his –well, he supposes- newly minted boyfriend. Although, he fully intends on making sure that Harry makes the proper amends and starting with his reinstatement to his old job.

Harry’s arm sneaks easily around Eggsy’s waist as they older man guides them down the corridor towards the exit while Eggsy checks his text messages. He winces at the first ten, all of them from Roxy demanding where he is. The eleventh text message, however, has him pulling a face at the screen before he nudges Harry’s side to get his attention.

“Harry, why the fuck did James just texted me to tell you that he an’ Tom are taking Newton to Heathrow to get is’ American girl? And _ps we might need your help to delay one of the flights to New York because now you owe us one_?”

\--

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> And then half the upper administration of Kingsman had a hand in stopping traffic, manipulating flight schedules, incapacitate airport security, let a child run through the gates to dramatically call out to his crush, and then promptly cooing at the cute. 
> 
> Because these bastards are not subtle.


End file.
